


A Better Show

by LollipopCop



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Flustered Crowley (Good Omens), Horny Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Theater, The author has musical theater opinions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22984381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LollipopCop/pseuds/LollipopCop
Summary: “Mmm!” Crowley muffled his cry by pressing his lips together tightly. He turned his face to the side, away from him, and started panting out of his open mouth.Aziraphale, feeling turned on and still quite mischievous, whispered to him, “Quiet, darling, remember?”It was a testament to how gone Crowley was that he didn’t try to retort or pull down his glasses to glare. He just nodded frantically and closed his mouth, keeping his face turned away.~~~When Aziraphale is bored out of his mind while watching a live production ofGrease,his attention turns to Crowley, who is casually sitting next to him with his legs spread. Well, it's not Aziraphale's fault the show is so dull and the noises Crowley makes are so captivating...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 619





	A Better Show

**Author's Note:**

> I had ZERO intention to write anything like this until an anon on tumblr was like "theater sex!!!"

Musicals were one of those things that Crowley pretended to hate, but could really enjoy if he listened to the right one. Aziraphale knew this, which was why he would put on a record of _Into the Woods_ or _Fiddler on the Roof_ and grin as Crowley grumbled but made no move whatsoever to change the music. Aziraphale loved seeing live performances even more than listening to records. His eyebrows lifted in delight when he read in the newspaper that _Grease_ was returning to the West End. He never got around to listening to that one, actually, but people seemed to like it very much. What better opportunity to experience the music for the first time than to see it live?

“No,” Crowley shook his head, not looking up from his phone.

“But it’ll be fun,” Aziraphale insisted.

“No, it won’t. Theater’s dull.”

“You stood with me at the Globe hundreds of years ago.”

“That was different,” he grumbled.

“How so?”

“Shakespeare wasn’t writing musicals, for one thing, and I only went to see more of you in tights.”

Aziraphale snorted. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Crowley.”

“And begging will get you nowhere, angel,” he drawled.

There was a lull in the conversation as they both silently acknowledged how false that was.

“Shut up,” Crowley grumbled.

“I didn’t say a word, dear,” he grinned. He stepped closer to Crowley, who was sprawled lazily on a chair. “It’s only that I do ever so love spending time with you,” he said softly.

Crowley sighed slowly. “You’re a bastard,” he put down his phone.

“And I love going on dates with you,” he went on.

Crowley glared at him from behind his glasses.

“And showing you off after thousands of years of being apart,” he pouted.

Crowley grimaced. “You’re a manipulative bastard.” He jumped up from the chair. “You owe me for this,” he muttered.

Aziraphale smirked. “There’s a lad. I already secured two tickets.”

“If it sucks, then I’m making you listen to bebop,” Crowley pointed a finger at him.

“Deal.”

That was how they found themselves sitting down in the theater in balcony seats. It may have taken a minor miracle to get these seats, but Aziraphale did two good deeds earlier to balance out the fact that he filled up these two seats without paying. In any case, Crowley surprised him by dressing a little nicer than usual. He was in tight black trousers, as usual, but he was wearing a red dress shirt and black tie. 

“You look very handsome,” Aziraphale smiled at him as they went to leave, a warm little flutter in his chest.

Crowley gave him a grumpy grumble, but his cheeks turned pink and he opened the car door for him. 

Aziraphale sat down in the car and pressed a quick kiss to Crowley’s cheek before he started driving. “Thank you for agreeing to come with me, dear.”

Crowley’s frown was deep, but so was his blush. He did a high-pitched imitation of Aziraphale’s voice and slammed his foot on the gas. Now, as they sat down in the theater in balcony seats, Crowley said, “If we hate it by intermission, we’re leaving.”

“That would be rude to the performers,” Aziraphale said with a tut. “Now behave. We’ve spent over 6,000 years on this planet and I assure you that you’ll survive two hours in that spot.”

Crowley made a face and turned his face to look at the stage. “Bloody bossy angel,” he muttered under his breath.

An elderly woman sat down in the seat next to Aziraphale, offering them a polite smile before looking at the program in her hand.

“At least this isn’t a gloomy show,” Aziraphale said to him. “At least, I don’t think it is.”

“But I don't think it’s funny, either,” Crowley said petulantly. “Nothing’s worse than bright and cheery shows if there’s no music.”

Then, the lights dimmed, the orchestra started to play, and the show began.

The thing was, Aziraphale tried to like it. He truly did. He tried to get into the music and the dilemmas the young high schoolers faced as portrayed in the musical, but none of it worked for him. He found the characters to be highly obnoxious, but the writing was completely unaware of that. The characters were meant to be endearing, but he found himself rolling his eyes at how the lead fellow didn’t want to be seen with the shy girl simply because she was more reserved. He was supposed to root for this character? He was supposed to root for the romantic relationship between Danny and Sandy? It was so dreadfully off-putting. Was this what passed for a good love story nowadays? At least Romeo and Juliet were consumed with naivety and burning passion instead of arrogance, and unrealistic expectations. The lead couple here was simply moronic.

Aziraphale let his eyes drift from the stage somewhere around the middle of the first act. The musicians all played very well and the actors and actresses hit all the right notes, but the music itself was not Aziraphale’s style at all. The choreography was nice to watch, at least, but he couldn’t move past how dreadfully unlikable the cast of teenagers was.

Aziraphale sighed because he knew Crowley was going to rub it in his face how right he was, and that they shouldn’t have gone tonight. He hoped he was joking about listening to bebop as punishment. Aziraphale looked over at him.

Crowley looked bored just from his posture, but he seemed to be paying attention, although the sunglasses made it difficult to tell. His legs were spread, taking up as much room as he could in the seat. Despite the lack of light in the theater, Aziraphale could see how the tight material of his trousers stretched over his thighs. His legs were long and a bit gangly, but that didn’t stop Aziraphale from pressing kisses and sucking light bruises into the skin, when Crowley was in the mood for that. That was as rough as their lovemaking got, but Aziraphale loved doing it, loved hearing Crowley pant and whine above him. There was nothing quite like licking and nipping at Crowley’s skin like he was the finest meal to ever grace his taste buds. He could spend an entire evening in between Crowley’s legs, in one way or another.

Aziraphale blinked when he felt stirring below the belt. Good Lord, what was wrong with him? He was in public! He was supposed to be watching this performance...this performance of an incredibly dull musical. But Crowley was interesting. Crowley was _enticing_ , even when he didn’t know it. He was sitting casually now, unaware of the pair of eyes on his body. Aziraphale shifted in his seat. He looked back at the stage.

Sandy was singing about being hopelessly devoted to Danny, the ignoramus. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Danny wasn’t worth being “hopelessly devoted” to, in his opinion. He wanted poor Sandy to be someone she wasn’t. Crowley certainly didn’t want Aziraphale to change himself before they got into a relationship. Sandy deserved better.

Aziraphale glanced back at Crowley, and his spread legs. It wasn’t his fault that this musical failed to hold his interest, nor was it his fault that his husband was a tempting serpent. His mind kept going back to thoughts of bringing Crowley home and ravishing him, which would have been a much better way to spend the evening, in hindsight. Crowley would probably rather be brought to pleasure right now than watching this. Aziraphale bit his lip. Well…

No, no, he couldn’t. They limited their lovemaking to the bedroom. It was always so intimate and tender between them. However, there was always room for something new, yes? This would be rather mischievous, too, and Crowley lived for causing mischief in public spaces. And, all right, perhaps Aziraphale was losing patience because he was getting rather hard in his trousers the more he thought about how flustered and pink Crowley got whenever he was doted upon. A flustered, whimpering Crowley was one of Aziraphale’s favorite Crowleys, and he was yearning to see him tonight, but there was still a significant portion of the show left. That meant he either had to wait, or start things now. He thought about it. Hmm. Perhaps some pleasure would make up how dull the evening was? Yes, Crowley deserved a little compensation.

Maybe years of demonic influence finally affected Aziraphale.

He casually placed a hand on Crowley’s thigh. There was a slight intake of breath, but no further acknowledgment. Aziraphale licked his lips. Was he really going to do this? He imagined Crowley squirming in his seat, struggling to stay quiet, and more heat pooled in Aziraphale’s groin. That was such a lovely image that he just had to try it out. He was getting bloody bored, anyway, and Crowley looked too delicious tonight to ignore. Red was such a lovely color on him. It was nice to see him wear a color other than black for a change.

Aziraphale began to rub Crowley’s thigh slowly up and down, feeling the warmth of his skin through the smooth material of the trousers. He leaned a little closer to him, away from the old woman who was captivated by the show. He felt positively naughty right now. They never did this. They never had to hold themselves back before, not after they got together for the first time. Call it demonic influence, but Aziraphale was so fed up with this trite on the stage that he wanted to be a little bad tonight. He started rubbing circles into his inner thigh with his thumb, tantalizingly close to his groin.

Crowley inhaled sharply.

Aziraphale leaned over and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck, but retreated quickly, not wanting anyone to notice. The balcony seats meant only the old woman was near them, but others in the theater could look up and see them.

He shivered. “Angel?” he whispered.

Aziraphale continued rubbing, keeping his face impassive as he was met with raised eyebrows over sunglasses. “All right?” he whispered back, letting his hot breath ghost over his neck.

Crowley looked down, lips parting at the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe it. From this angle, Aziraphale could see Crowley blinking. Then, he lifted his head, eyes concealed again. “Are you mad?” he whispered.

Aziraphale paused. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Crowley swallowed, the lights from the stage cast on half of his face, revealing the bob of his Adam’s apple. He was too stunned to speak. He then turned his head back towards the stage and sat back, clearing his throat. If the lights had been on, the blooming red flush on his cheeks would have been visible. He spread his legs a little wider in silent invitation.

Aziraphale smiled. _Excellent._ He sat back, too, so it appeared as if he were paying attention to the stage. He kept his hand in between Crowley’s legs, and smoothed his hand over until there was a growing bulge beneath his palm. He willed his own body to keep calm as he began rubbing over the bulge slowly, letting his palm drag over the material. They sat there quietly, eyes fixed on the performers of stage, as Aziraphale steadily worked him to full hardness. It sent a little thrill through Aziraphale, actually, to think they were doing something so intimate and the packed theater around them was unaware. He took his time, palming Crowley almost casually, like they had all the time in the world.

Crowley was gripping the armrests of the chair. His feet tilted up, and Aziraphale knew he was curling his toes. He was always so responsive, after being starved for touch his whole life. They both were. 

Aziraphale felt himself flushing as the bulge grew harder under his palm. If they were home, he would be kissing him senseless right now, but the thought of solely getting him off with his hand was appealing, too.

“Ngh!” Crowley let out a short groan.

“Shhh!” the old woman sitting next to Aziraphale scolded.

“Yes,” Aziraphale leaned over to whisper in his ear. “You’ll have to stay quiet, love.” He flashed a smile and whispered an apology to the woman before he could see Crowley’s mouth drop open, half in annoyance, half in arousal. Aziraphale turned his eyes back to the stage, but his hand continued palming Crowley through his trousers. He could feel the heat of his erection through the material. Aziraphale was not unaffected by this, but he wanted to focus on Crowley’s pleasure now, not his own. Besides, this was risky enough.

Crowley was gripping the armrests even tighter, his chest moving up and down deliberately in slow, quiet breaths. He squirmed in the chair, tilting his hips up to meet his hand.

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s erection straining against the zipper, and figured that was uncomfortable. He unzipped his trousers slowly, hearing a shaky sigh. He vaguely registered that a new song was being sung now, but his ear was tuned for every new little sound that fled Crowley’s lips. He was trying valiantly to stay quiet, but at home, he always moaned loudly and unabashedly in their bed. It was quite admirable how composed he was, really. 

Aziraphale had to try to keep his own body in check when he felt how wet the front of Crowley’s pants were, right at the tip. He leaned over and whispered, “You’re so lovely,” and went back to pretending he was watching the show casually. He could feel Crowley’s eyes on him. He slipped his hand inside of his pants, and his palm was met with hot skin. Aziraphale glanced over to him.

Crowley bit his lip. His chest was moving much faster now with each breath, and his hands shook where they held onto the armrest.

Aziraphale felt himself getting harder. Goodness, he was beautiful. There wasn’t much room for his hand, but he started to stroke Crowley, squeezing a little as he moved up.

Crowley’s hips writhed in the seat and he leaned his head back, exposing his throat.

Aziraphale was tempted to bite his skin, but refrained. He was a master of self-control for millennia, after all, despite the fact that he currently had a demon’s penis in his hand in a sold out theater. He almost laughed at the thought, but didn’t want Crowley to think he was laughing at him. He could be so insecure sometimes. Aziraphale couldn’t hold back from staring at him any longer, though, and now his full attention was on Crowley and making him feel good. His thumb swirled at the leaking tip.

“Mmm!” Crowley muffled his cry by pressing his lips together tightly. He turned his face to the side, away from him, and started panting out of his open mouth.

Aziraphale, feeling turned on and still quite mischievous, whispered to him, “Quiet, darling, remember?”

It was a testament to how gone Crowley was that he didn’t try to retort or pull down his glasses to glare. He just nodded frantically and closed his mouth, keeping his face turned away.

Aziraphale loved him like this, consumed by pleasure and pliant in his hand. He still felt so honored that he could do this to him, render him to this state. It wasn’t something he took lightly. He adored Crowley with his entirety, and it was quite difficult for him to hold back words of praise right now. When they got home, he wanted to kiss Crowley and tell him he loved him, and what a beautiful man he was, and how happy he made Aziraphale. Words of love made Crowley turn pink and fall into his arms more than any touch.

Crowley was biting his bottom lip again, but that didn’t stop breathy hisses from leaving his throat. His loss of control over his serpentine features meant he was truly getting lost in pleasure. His eyes were surely completely yellow behind the glasses, and the slits of his pupils would be blown wide. He emitted a low, nearly inaudible whine from his chest.

Aziraphale tugged at his collar with his free hand, feeling hot under all of his layers of clothing. He stopped stroking him for a moment—not missing the small, cut-off whine of protest—to reach down and fondle his warm bollocks.

“Ah!” Crowley yelped, writhing in the chair, feet sliding and moving restlessly on the floor. His cry was drowned out by the orchestra starting up again, and the cast began to dance and sing:

_We go together_

_Like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong_

_Remembered forever_

_As shoo-bop sha wadda wadda yippity boom de boom_

The part of Aziraphale’s brain that wasn’t focused on Crowley thought that giving a hand job was infinitely better than listening to _that_. His hand moved back and pressed against his perineum, and he went half-lidded when he saw a full-bodied shiver ripple through him.

Crowley was whimpering now, his hips bucking upwards, and he bowed his head. _“Uhhh”_ he groaned.

Aziraphale’s cock throbbed, and he had to put an end to this soon before he got too hard to stop himself from using his other hand to touch himself. Watching Crowley struggle to keep quiet and still, but ultimately lose his self-restraint and slip up by letting his hips squirm and moans escape him, was something Aziraphale would think about for a long time. He slid his hand back up to take grasp Crowley’s cock once more, and he pumped him steadily now, wanting to put him out of his agony.

Crowley’s hips thrust up to meet his hand, matching the rhythm of his strokes, precome leaking over Aziraphale’s fingers. His whimpers were getting louder now, and his thighs were shaking.

Aziraphale’s heart swelled with affection for his darling demon, his better half. He savored each and every time he was able to make him feel so good. He leaned over and breathed, “You’re being very good for me, Crowley.”

Crowley lifted his head and nodded, mouth agape, soaking in the praise. “Aziraphale, _please,”_ he whispered shakily.

Hearing his name spoken on the cusp of ecstasy was more divine than all of Heaven’s choirs. “I love you,” Aziraphale whispered, and captured Crowley’s lips in a kiss before he could shout as he came, right as the music reached its climax and the audience began to applaud enthusiastically. His semen spilled hot all over Aziraphale’s hand, and he was panting when the kiss ended.

Aziraphale saw the curtain going down in his peripheral vision, and knew he had to act fast. With a quick miracle, Crowley’s trousers were zipped and clean, and Aziraphale’s hand was dry. The lights turned on for intermission, and Crowley looked wrecked in the seat. His head lolled back against the chair, his skin was red from his ears down to his neck, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his chest heaved as if he ran a marathon. He was trembling.

“My word!” the old woman beside Aziraphale snapped.

Aziraphale froze. Bugger. They weren’t as subtle as he thought. He snapped his fingers, erasing the last two minutes of her memory.

The woman blinked. “Oh, is it time for intermission already?” she asked Aziraphale, no trace of alarm on her face anymore.

Aziraphale smiled at her. “Yes, the curtain just went down.”

She looked at Crowley. “Is he all right?”

Crowley looked like he was about to sink out of his chair and fall onto the floor.

“Yes,” Aziraphale told her. “He just loves a good musical!”

She looked skeptical, but smiled politely and exited the balcony, joining the other patrons in the lobby for intermission.

Now that they were alone in the balcony, Aziraphale curved his fingers and touched his flushed cheek. “Are you all right?”

Crowley nodded.

“Do you need a minute?” he asked.

Crowley nodded again.

“All right,” he said, knowing how overwhelming sex could be for Crowley. Oh, bother, he hoped he didn’t take things too far. He saw that Crowley was still shaking, so he decided to perform another quick miracle. He snapped his fingers, and now they were outside, in the backseat of the Bentley. Aziraphale gathered him into his arms and held him through the aftershocks, as he usually did in bed after they had sex.

Crowley lifted his head and looked around in confusion. “But the show…?”

“Shhh,” Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “Enough about the show. Relax.”

Crowley put his head down into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, and he gradually caught his breath. He wrapped his arms around his neck in a loose hug, clinging onto him like a sloth. Aziraphale rubbed his back comfortingly, and he was getting a little worried now. Should he not have done all of that?

“Tell me how you feel, Crowley,” he murmured.

Crowley’s trembling slowed, and he pressed a small kiss to his neck. “You,” he rasped, “are un-bloody-believable.”

“Is that a good or bad thing? I’m asking because I know we never did something like that before, and we didn’t discuss anything beforehand.”

Crowley lifted his head and smiled lazily. He took off his glasses and his eyes were, indeed, completely yellow around his wide pupils. He was blissed out, his features soft and open. “It was good, angel,” he said, still sounding a little hoarse from the effort it took to keep (relatively) quiet, but content.

Aziraphale grinned, relieved. “Well, good. I’m very happy to have done it.” 

Crowley kissed him softly.

Aziraphale kissed back, and it felt nice to be able to kiss him now that they were alone. His lips were damp, most likely from biting them earlier, and the kiss felt lazy and somewhat sleepy on Crowley’s part. Aziraphale still felt aroused, but he wasn’t aching for release, and his coat allowed him to hide it. He was fine with going home and letting Crowley nap on his chest as he listened to a soundtrack that was actually good. Something by Sondheim would do.

They pulled apart with a little smack. “You were extraordinary, my dear,” Aziraphale told him. “You were the most enticing creature I’ve ever witnessed.” He had to admit that watching Crowley struggle to hold back his moans was more arousing than he had anticipated, although he wasn’t sure if it was truly better than letting his sounds of ecstasy fill the bookshop.

Crowley chuckled lazily, allowing himself to be happy and unguarded in this moment. “I sorta just sat there and tried not to alert an old woman. By the way, giving a hand job next to an old lady? Properly demonic of you. I was shocked. What got into you? I thought you wanted to see the show.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Well, I did, but it’s been...terrible so far!” he admitted.

Crowley cackled, sitting up and disentangling himself from the loose hug. “It has been!” he agreed. “I knew it would be!”

“Yes, you did,” he conceded. “I got rather annoyed with the characters, and, well,” he looked down at his shoes. “I started to think of how dashing you look in that red shirt, and how I’d much rather be at home making love to you, and one thing led to another.”

“Look, if taking you to bad musicals leads to _that,_ then we should go see _The Sound of Music.”_

Aziraphale snorted. “Not a chance, dearest.”

“What a shame. Do you want to go back inside?”

“Goodness, no. I’ve had enough. Let’s return home. You probably feel rather tired now, yes?”

“Yep, you know me well,” Crowley said. He gazed at him fondly, and then placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “You’re something else, angel. You really dragged me to a theater just to get me off next to an old woman.”

Aziraphale blushed deeper in embarrassment. “I didn’t intend—!”

Crowley was laughing heartily, a sound that was rare in their 6,000 years together, but was becoming more frequent nowadays. “I’m teasing. You’re funny. I love you.”

Aziraphale huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I love you, too,” he muttered. He paused. “You reached orgasm just as the song ended and the audience applauded. What incredible timing.”

Crowley spluttered. “Wuh-shi— _did I?”_

“Yes,” he giggled. 

Crowley joined in the laughter, and said, “You erased that old woman’s memory just because you couldn’t keep it in your pants!”

“I did,” he laughed, and they giggled together at the absurdity of the night.

Aziraphale calmed down, feeling giddy and in love. “Can we please go home?” 

Crowley pecked him on this lips. “Thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> In all my years of writing, this is actually the first public sex fic I've ever written lol. It was fun! And this fic gave me a chance to dunk on Grease. Sorry if you like that musical, but I have very strong opinions against it :P
> 
> If you liked this, please read my [other Good Omens fics! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=575567&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=LollipopCop)
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [@obsessivelollipoplalala~](https://obsessivelollipoplalala.tumblr.com)


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